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Solace Amongst The Storm
The noise was deafening, the barrage of sound causing a constant ringing to echo throughout his very thoughts no matter which way he turned. Each voice and tune rolled together like crashing waves as different pitched voices, loud shouts, cries, yells and roars came together in a cacophony of noise, here and there the noise would be split by the crash of something hitting the floor or the swears of someone behind him until his ears were once more filled with the chaotic sound that assaulted him as it had done for the last 12 hours almost unendingly. He’d tried stuffing his spare socks under the rim of his helmet to dampen the sound but that hadn’t helped and now his nostrils were jammed with the smell of old cotton and grease soap, leaving him gagging every so often and forcing him to breath through his mouth. His companions weren’t fairing much better by the looks on their faces, a couple were clearly attempting to drone out the sound by humming to themselves or shifting their stance to put something between them and the source of the sound as the jeering crowd continued with its verbal onslaught. Others were simply attempting to ignore it with some difficultly he noticed as one squads sergeant walked up and slapped a trooper round the back of the head who’d had his fingers wedged in his ears to block out the sound. His own squad mates weren’t fairing much better as their nerves began to run out and tempers became to bed in towards the crowd before them, glancing to his left he could make out corporal shrews grimacing as she began to lose the battle with keeping her temper in check, one hand clenching and unclenching as she closed her eyes trying to stop herself from what would more than likely be an explosive and direct response to the annoyance he knew. Watching the crowd as they moved behind their barricade of debris, shattered furniture and any scrap they had laid their hands on he found his gaze drawn to the different mixture of people involved, here and there the bodysuit of metal workers, next to them various scrap wrapped salvagers, be-goggled vat workers standing shoulder to shoulder with the odd garrison militiamen, their garrison insignia defaced with a daubed cross on a strip of cloth wrapped around their arm. Garson knew he wasn’t a fan of any joven outsiders as much as the next technician, but this was just plain nuts he shook his head as a lump of what had previously been a chair leg went sailing over his head as he ducked instinctively. As far as he knew yes some tribal savages to the south had raided Morsville and they deserved justice for what had happened, but these tribals were trying to get through to battle the swarm that was only a week or two direct march north of them after they’d agreed with the general of the Old Guard to do so, put simply they were keeping to their promise and were hear to help, even if that help was driven by their own self interest a small part of his mind cut in as he looked to his right, a pair of tribal soldiers the joven to the south called hunters sat perched on the roof of a long burnt out and rusted transport of some kind watching the crowd as he was. Looking around him he couldn’t see any sign of his platoons officer, stretching his arms out for a second he wondered away from his post over to the hunters sat but a few metres away from him. Glancing at him with a quizzical eye as he walked over to them the older of the two got up rom his perch, a suspicious look crossing his face as he seemed to measure up Garson. Standing an inch or two taller than him Garson was more squat in build where as the hunter was more lithe, more ruddy of complexion the hunter in turn was fairer with his face covered in almost ritualistic markings painted with some form of almost adhesive like substance from what Garson could see. Here and there a few scars could be seen, old and faded but littering the tribals face Garson noted as he stopped before the hunters. “You have questions brass hunter” the tribal spoke with a slight accent, caught flat footed for a moment by the directness Garson blinked and scratched the side of his face “Just thought you’d have been with the rest of your unit” he gestured in the direction of the tribal war-camp. “The war-chief of chiefs seeks caution amongst your lands brass one, we are his eyes” The hunter spoke again, the other younger one watching Garson as her partner spoke to the young militia trooper. “Guess you’re just as bored of waiting for this lot to get bored and go home then?” He nodded at the still jeering crowd blocking the road and tunnel entrance ahead, not sure if he was making some slight or not the older hunter simply nodded, “Our time here would be better spent running down the spawn from beyond the light” the younger hunter spoke suddenly, her own accent light in comparison to other hunters. Her own features were covered in swirls of silver and red as she cocked her head to one side, a smile splitting her face as she grinned at Garson, He raised an eyebrow at the sudden friendliness from the tribal as she got up and took a step forward, drawing level with him so that all three formed a line almost facing the riotous crowd 50 metres away. Scowling slightly as his younger compatriot continued to grin at the bewildered mech-corp trooper Garson couldn’t help but feel more at ease around the younger hunter, any signs of malice or suspicion present on the older hunters face completely missing from the youngers. “Guess your people have as much issues with the mutants as we do then aye?” He said slowly, forcing himself not to make ‘people’ sound like an insult as he watched the crowd. “The ancestors look out for us as we venerate them” the younger hunter nodded “But the spawn from beyond always try to raid out lands, hurt our families and our tribes” She seemed genuinely sad at some thought that seemed attached to her words Garson noted “Lost my uncle few years back to a mutie attack, jumped his salvage crew on the way home” Garson said quietly, something pulling at him to try and help share the younger hunters pain. She smiled and traced something across her face with one hand “You have a kind heart” She said as the older hunter suddenly pointed to something. “Seems your warchief & gatherers keep their word Brass one” He spoke roughly as Garson looked down a side alley, a column of mech-corp troops baring a pennant flag marching towards them, 9th company etched into its old fabric fluttering above the head of its bearer, “Guess higher ups aren’t messing about with this lot either” Garson agreed as the column began to deploy... Military Campaign Progress Patience has always been seen as somewhat of a double edged sword when regarded by humanity as a whole. In some places it has been an enduring companion that has let its charges wait out the worst of a storm or carnage surrounding them to then emerge stronger, ready to stand on their own two feet when the time was right. In others it has been a cruel adversary, as equally likely to chew off the hand of friend and family as it was to attack the foes before them, neither side gaining any true control over it but both feelings its bite when the time came. This dual sense has often led to an admiration for those with patience tempered by wisdom, whilst equally those with the will to act have over-ridden those council ling the opposite throughout the course of human history. In the first cycles of humanities evolution those cave dwellers that had the will to wait out the tracking of an animal lay the way for the first warriors and transition from simple hunter gatherers to established farming communities, from here that same patience taken in learning a new way of life let these small villages grow into towns and form the first civilisations whose leaders own patience or lack of would see some rise whilst others would fall by the way side as time pressed on. Come the dawn of the age of kingdoms and the first true continent spanning empires patience would become the currency of kings, queens and despots as they played out their own squabbles by the swords of thousands, those rising to the top seeing themselves through by the same patience that had seen their opponents fall by the same misguided step when their own patience had failed them. In time as the march of progress brought mankind into the modern eras and eventually into the very stars themselves this sense of a welcome but weighted companion in our own sense of patience would become a constant companion that would see an entirely new game began to play out as it always did when the sword came crashing down once more. When it comes to the Mech-corp culture at large this sense of duality and patience becomes a metaphor for them all, as each side of both the technician masses and specialist upper class find their own version of this patience coming to the fore in their day to day lives. For the technicians this can be the simple patient fact that some specialist somewhere will take it upon themselves to attempt to improve in someway the processes that keeps them all live by removing some more technicians from the picture, this will inevitably fail and all their work will quietly be forgotten or pulled apart and the work handed once more back to the technicians whose families had carried it out for generations. On the flipside for the specialists and their kin this patience can come from the ability to wait out the masses each and every time they yell themselves horse, barring the guild slope and access to the parliament, demanding each and every so called ’right’ they deem they are owed with little to no work towards it on their part. Some families will trip but others will patiently wait until the crowds disperse, some bill or edict is over turned or brought in to be lost in the endless rounds of debates whilst the masses go back to their lives and normality returns to those specialists with the will to endure through simple inevitable patience. The first few days of the new season would pass to the same cacophony of violence as those that had proceeded it, up and down the Old Guard’s frontline periodical clashes would flare between the mutant swarms own probing tendrils and the entrenched soldiers of the mech-corp. Each of these more individualistic clashes would result in the same outcome as each side eventually withdrew into their own lines, the mech-corp once more back into their trenches and defences whilst the packs of mutants would disappear once more into the eerie gloom of the ruins out in the darkness before the old guard. Come the dawn of the fifth day of the first week however even those more pessimistic troopers would notice that beyond these occasional probes of sorts the main bulk of the swarm was still yet to be seen, much like it had been during the last few days of the previous season. The reasons as to why are little understood by the general soldiery as each platoon and company has their own theories ranging from heartening patriotic bravado speeches that are ignored by those more realistic amongst the army, through to quandaries if the swarm is as hard pressed as the old guard were, or if maybe somehow the approaching ’reinforcements’ as the more diplomatically minded officers put it has caused the swarm to withdraw to a more defensible position with the numbers now on the side of the mech-corp. Each theory leaves as many questions unanswered as the days draw out, each passing until come the end of the second week the underlying tension once more begins to build amongst the Old guard just as it had when they first set foot into the territory once more all those months ago. Initially holding to the defensive stance set by the general in the seasons prior the leading companies of each battalion deployed along the front line begin to dispatch small scout squads forward into the darkness. These first forays only push as far forward as the limit of their best sighted soldiers can see back on the leading edge as the troopers call the frontline, perhaps a few hundred metres at most. The next would push a street further, and then one more and another until by the midst of fourth day of the third week the scout squads pushing forward for any major signs of the true swarm are making it well over a mile forward of the Old Guard’s frontlines with little beyond the odd sighting of an decaying mutant carcass or a howler darting from sight into a open sewer pipe. Passing their reports back up the chain of command the battalion colonels hold a meeting with one another over the next couple of days to check if each sector of the lines findings where one offs, or if something more cohesive seemed to be happening, by the third such meeting all of them are in agreement that the swarm so prevalent until the last few days of the last month had seemingly disappeared from quite literally under their very noses. The fact that in the initial days of this season one points out that the swarm continued to probe their lines may have been a ruse of some kind, one of the other colonels aides struggles to hold in a laugh as he and his colonel scoff at the idea of the mindless swarm utilising tactics. The rest of the meeting descends into hours of argument, conjecture and clashing between the assembled officers until they tire themselves out over the simple fact that for all their scorn for the mutant swarm and any so called ’intelligence’ from the nightmarish horde they had indeed potentially pulled off a successful withdrawal from right under their watch. The dawn of the second month would pass by to little more than the continuation of the reconnaissance patrols that had been slowly dispatched in the week before, the only difference this time however is rather than the singular squads the remaining platoons from the light companies of each battalion are let loss proper by the old guard as the rest of the army prepares itself to continue the defensive attrition warfare it had become accustomed to. Come the eve of the sixth day of the week the collection of officers and their seconds from the reconnaissance sweeps would make themselves known to the general as they arrive and spend the next few hours behind guarded tent walls as they report on their findings, each colonel present querying the officers and each other before discussing the raised points in length with the general. These series of sweeps would continue for another few days as the rest of the army dug itself back into the small amount of new ground taken the season before, here and there the site of particular clashes would cause the odd bunch of troopers to hold small remembrances in their free time before returning to their posts, some of the troopers finding time to write home for the first time in days if not weeks, whilst others would assist with the reallocation of equipment from the confirmed dead as each company took stock before reporting their readiness back to their respective commanders. The army was ready as ever, each and every officer was sure of that as the past seasons had shown, the only issue some would say was for how much longer could they take a beating like that. Some would quietly raise this same thought amongst their compatriots in the officers messes, whilst lowly militia troopers would ask the same thing amongst their squad mates around crude oil bin fires as they collected their days rations from the cook tents. Some more optimistic than most would point out that if the swarm had retreated they might see some replacements make it to the frontline this season, that would help with the pressure at least they noted as their squad mates looked at each other with a sceptical glance. The following week would see itself in and out again with little notice as the army began to settle into a fitful rest of sorts, each time a patrol left some wondered if this would be the last time they saw those troopers, others wondering if this time they’d find something, some sign of the mutant swarm, but to little avail as the patrols would return tired from simple the distance walked in tense silence. Talking it over amongst themselves the colonels during one morning would come to the conclusion that the next few dozen miles, roughly another 20% of the territory; was clear of anything, no sign beyond the odd carcass once more hinting at the mutants presence. By this point a couple even voiced their thoughts that maybe, just perhaps, the mutants had completely fallen back for some reason from the territory in its entirety. These thoughts are quickly quashed by the general as he points to his experiences in the agri-dome, making it plainly clear that the mutants do not run when they know living food is within a talons grasp, something else has to be up for them to slink back into the darkness like this. Early into the morning of the third day of the third week of the month the general and colonels are roused by a series of aides, some jump from their beds expecting the mutants to have returned, whilst others eye their aides maliciously for having woken them so early. Each in turn finds the reason for their rude awakening as they dress and come together at the command tent. A sizeable grouping of tribal warriors sits in perfect formation around the edge of the tent, evidently their leader sat on a small stool in the midst before the entrance of the tent, the Quiet step of the tribal Peoples had finally arrived. Parting to allow the colonels, aides & the general through the Quiet steps ’general’ and his own small collection of officers, or ’Chiefs’ as they call themselves, are shown into the tent, each taking a seat around the large old table covered in the Old Guards maps and plans. The next few hours would see a series of running discussions within that tent, all of them boiling down to the current situation at the front, information gathered on the swarm and strains seen by troopers engaged with the swarm, alongside the strange situation now currently facing the old Guard and Quiet step now they were present. One of the Colonels makes a quip about the quiet steps tardiness before being shut down by the general as one of the people’s chiefs begins to open her mouth, stopping as the quiet steps general raises a hand for her silence. The colonel looks sheepishly away as the Old Guard’s general explains the ongoing situation with the refuges further south alongside the crowd of rioters from Morsville; at the name of the town a number of the people’s chiefs squirm visibly as each side glares at one another for a moment. Both generals come down on it as each points to the common enemy to be dealt with before them, after the meeting as the various colonels and chiefs depart to their respective commands the two generals converse before one of the remaining chiefs offers their thanks to the Old guard for their escort and assistance in clearing the obstruction blocking their progress. The general raises an eyebrow as the people’s chief explains, the quiet step had withdrawn to their war camp to wait out the situation with a couple of scouts keeping an eye on the ’rioters’ as the mech-corp called them. About a week and a half ago a band bearing a flag marked with the number 9 had arrived alongside a mech-corp war scout named Wiley who had quickly set to work moving the morsvillians out of the way via multiple means. Some of the ordinary citizens when faced with a true military response has simply gone home, the enjoyment taken out of it when their debris throwing would receive a rifle butt to the face in response from actual soldiers. A number of those from the local settlement that had been egged on to join in equally had lost stomach for it and dispersed whilst a few of the more hard cored rioters had to be physically dragged off of the barricade to clear it. In the end the only real violence had occurred when the final half a dozen of so, mainly consisting of a pair of morsville garrison troopers, one salvage worker and a trio of brothers; had drawn their weapons and attempted to shoot at the encroaching 9th company troops. A corporal from the company had been winged before the shooter, the salvage worker, was put down hard by a return round to the head from the war scout the people’s chief stated, the massed presented ranks of rifles convincing the remaining 5 to surrender immediately rather than risk dying in a blizzard of weapons fire. The injured corporal had been patched up by a doctor from Silesia, the settlements council offering their thanks in sorting the situation so quickly they finished before leaving the tent. The rest of the week and the following one would see the quiet steps time taken up with deploying into position alongside the Old guards established front line, here and there war bands of tribal hunters would take over manning the trenches and bulwarks from tired ochre greatcoat clad militia troopers, both sides coldly but politely seeing the other off as the Old guard began to reorganise itself whilst the quiet step accustomed itself to the new lands it found itself in. It would take until the close of the first week of the final month of the season before the assembled leaders of the quiet step would meet once more with the general and colonels of the Old guard to begin to discuss their plan of action. The following day would see plan an counter plan talked though from top to bottom by both armies leaders as each tested the others plans and attempted to push forward their own in reverse as each side gauged the others strengths and weaknesses. For the Old guard this was learning the quiet step were learned in a far different school of war to them, where the Old guard was akin to a heavy sledge hammer the quiet step was more akin to light bow. The mech-corp militia soldiers won their fights through brutal bloody attrition and trench warfare, whilst the peoples tribal warriors fought by series of raids and strikes that were designed to bleed an enemy and strangle their supplies. Against mutants where one would present a hedgerow of bayonets and levelled rifles under the command of brightly uniformed officers, the other would see bands of veteran hunters leading groups of newly minted warriors into the night to strike when the swarm was at its least vigilant. In the end a plan was devised however, whilst the Old guard would hold their current positions the Quiet step would advance as a reconnaissance inforce, with platoons drawn from the Old guard light companies providing mobile blocks of fire power that if necessary the quiet steps bands of raiders and hunters could anchor themselves, allowing for bigger more resilient mutant spawn to be brought down before they could cause to much damage to either force. The next few days would see this plan put into practice as both army’s settled into their assigned roles, finally both being prepped and as ready as they could be come the dawn of the midst the third week of the month. Beginning their speculative push into the remainder of the territory the leading light platoons and swathes of hunter bands would encounter what all the mech-corp patrols had before, silence and the occasional corpse left behind by the swarm. Here and there the astute ways of the peoples hunters would find another corpse, or skeleton torn to shreds of a scavenger devoured by the mutant swarm, whilst in others the mech-corps lack of any spiritual taboos would allow them to clear buildings with ease when hunters refused to entire them due to some cultural issue. For the most part was abit stiff and cold with one another both army’s managed to advance slowly with out much issue as the combined force began to eat up the miles until come the weeks end they had passes the furthest point any old guard patrols had reached. The next couple of days would leave both forces in the mind that their slow but steady approach was the right one as they pushed up to almost 2/3rds through the territory before they came across a sign both knew and hard been dreading. The first reports back took a day or so to arrive putting them in the hands of their respective generals with a few days left in the season, massive sickly tendrils had been found wrapped around the foundations of buildings, weeping masses of flesh and ichor slicking the floors around them that burnt away at the material of armour and clothes alike. The swarm had indeed withdrawn but to a position it had determined to begin to form something the scout reports stated, the growths looked almost transparent with something forming in them bathed in a blue like glow, It was almost like they were alive in someway the end of the reports noted as the generals and assembled leaders discussed the shock findings. Putting the reports down on the table before them the general’s both looked at one another as they both draw their own conclusions from the discovery, the reconnaissance inforce being recalled back to the Old guards lines. “We may have potentially won the first round but what this is I don’t know” both agreed… Summary: The Old guard has managed to secure some further gains in the territory it has been engaged in, putting perhaps 66% under its direct control with some assistance from the arrival of the Quiet step from the Peoples. The swarm that had previously disengaged at the end of the last season has been relocated once more with out any real casualties luckily, however it appears to have entered some kind of growth state, spreading like an infection through the remaining third of the territory with a great mass growing at the centre. What this means neither army is quite sure, though someone with more knowledge of the mutant life cycle or how to kill them might be of help. (Note: Whilst the Old guard hasn’t been engaged in combat it ahs been disengaged so hasn’t received an natural reinforcement, as such is still currently sits at a strength of 1685/3000) Clouds over the horizon With the ongoing revelations coming from the agri-dome the parliament has been embroiled in an ongoing series of discussions and debates about the path the mech-corp as a whole should take, each party in turn pushing for their own direction for their own reasons leading to the inevitable explosive verbal arguments raining down the halls ways of the guild slope proper. On top of this the situation surrounding the mess that is Morsville continues to rear its head amongst the lower house of the parliament as the refugee crisis grows constantly as each session of the lower house devolves into the same circular arguments, debates, fronting and eventual calling of the session as each side and political faction faces off against one another. In this thought a handful of common points don however eventually break through the background noise to be heard as a delegation arrives from Silesia to speak before the upper house. Consisting of the leaders of the various involved parties and representatives of the citizens of Silesia they spend the first hour or so discussing the situation in the town, platitudes towards certain figures and ministers before about an hour in coming to the true point of the matter. With the help from the expeditionary forces the rioters from Morsville have been sub-dubbed thankfully with the ring leaders arrested, this has in the immediate done two things, the first of these being allowing of the joven army to move on northwards to their arranged link up with the Old guard as their original plan. At this the main council members begrudgingly do admit the tribals were well behaved enough that the thoughts of actually raiding the tribals back has left somewhat of bad taste in the locals mouths, secondly a more importantly in the councils eyes this has also meant that a number of the refugees clogging up the town have been able to start being transport back to the main mech-corp home lands so lifting some of the burden off of the town proper. Accordingly they plan on dispatching a further delegation to the expeditionary forces to discuss their thanks and further plans once finished here at the parliament, this sees a general chorus of hora’s and the like from some parties as well as cold but polite responses from others arranged across the other benches. Summary: 1) With the Morsville refugees successfully moved on or arrested in the case of the more hardened members the quiet step has managed to link up with the Old guard successfully. Accordingly the council from Silesia are sending a delegation with their thanks to visit the expeditionary forces in the dome in order to discuss further reparations in regards to this action, they are expected to arrive sometime Friday evening. 2) On top of the refugees beginning to be sorted out and housed/ returned to the home territory something odd was discovered on one of the more hardened members, the salvage worker, of the Morsville rioters as his belongings were being searched after his death. An arm band with an odd symbol was discovered proclaiming some affiliation to a group not recognised by the law enforcement or garrisons of the mech-corp territories. Accordingly the council wish to discuss this matter with the expeditionary forces upon their arrival. Back To Downtimes